Trouble with a Capital W
by Amethyst M
Summary: The brothers need to find a way to kill the Leviathans for good. Spoilers for season 7. Story #7 in my AU series.
1. Chapter 1

**Trouble with a Capital W**

**Chapter One**

Sam was getting used to feeling feathers beneath him when he woke up. Apparently, the wings being invisible talent only worked when he was conscious. Sam and Agent Smith were staying at a hotel nearby, along with a few other FBI agents. There was a knock on his door. As it opened, he recognized the red-haired nurse named Maria Jones, the woman Chuck was trying to avoid. Sam wondered just who Maria was.

"Morning," Sam said. His wings vanished.

Maria smiled. "You don't have to hide them from me."

He looked slightly embarrassed. "I'd rather look normal."

She nodded. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Fine, I guess."

"No hallucinating?"

Sam shook his head.

"No headaches?"

"No, ma'am," he replied.

"Good." Maria was carrying an iPad. She entered some notes on a screen with a pen. "So, are you hungry for breakfast?"

Sam nodded. "Can I get some coffee?"

"Yes, but I would suggest avoiding food since you have a CAT scan today."

He sighed. "Okay."

Maria nodded. "Your CAT scan is scheduled for 10:00 and the people from the FBI still want to interview you. After that, once you get your medication, you're free to check out and eat whatever you like. But, I should tell you, leaving by the front door might not be the best option. There are a bunch of reporters camping out downstairs."

"Thanks for the warning."

She nodded. "You're not the first celebrity we've had. There are some back entrances. I can get security to show you."

"Good. Thanks."

She nodded and left.

Sam's cell phone rang. He picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hey bro, how's it going?" Dean asked.

"Dean. Good, I guess. I can't wait to get out of here."

"Right. Uh, I've got good news and bad news," Dean said.

"What's the bad news?" Sam asked.

"The bad news is, we're still partners. The good news is, the FBI is making us legit."

"What?" Sam nearly dropped the cell phone in disbelief.

"Yeah, they want us to consult for them on all cases pertaining to the Leviathans and other supernatural beings."

"Seriously?" the younger Winchester brother asked.

"Sam, I am holding in my hand our real FBI ID's," Dean said.

"No way," he said.

"Yes way," Dean replied.

"I'm dreaming."

"No, you're not."

Sam sighed. "What's the catch?"

"The only catch is, we have to follow protocol and go through some training and uh, that's really about it." Someone said something in the background. "Oh, and stay out of trouble," Dean added.

"Trouble is our middle name. We're screwed."

Dean laughed. "I'll be there when I can."

"What'd he say?" Agent Smith asked as Dean hung up the phone.

"He says he'll try to stay out of trouble."

"Uh huh," the agent skeptically replied.

"Come on," Dean said with a grin. "Let's go grab some grub."

He realized that the main reason the government was letting them off the hook was because putting them in the FBI would make it easier to keep tabs on them. It would also be easier for the government to control Sam, which Dean was worried about. They were incredibly naïve if they thought they could control a guy who could both summon and manipulate hellfire at will, and also had some angelic powers to boot. Dean figured the government didn't entirely believe the stories he'd told them about the apocalypse. Still, it was a legitimate job, and it would make Sam happy.

As he and Agent Smith headed to the café downstairs, a camera was stuck in Dean's face.

"Hey, give a guy a break okay?" he said. "I just got up. I haven't even had my coffee yet."

"How's your brother doing?" the reporter asked.

"Fine, fine. Leave me alone, please?" he inquired.

"We hear you're working with the FBI now. Is that true?"

Dean held up his real FBI ID. "Here, happy? Now go away."

"How does it feel to be legit?" the reporter pressed.

"Great. Please go away so I can drink my coffee, or else I'll sic my bro on you. 'Kay, thanks, bye." Dean turned abruptly and followed Agent Smith to a table.

"Well, aren't we Mr. Grumpy Pants this morning," said the reporter.

Dean ignored him and held up the menu. "Can I punch him?"

"Not legally," said Agent Smith, who was suppressing a grin.

Dean sighed. It was going to be a very long morning.

A couple of hours later, Sam laid beneath the CAT scanner and looking up at all the blinking lights. It was all doctors' orders, of course. Having frequent migraines and hallucinations (although those were tied to traumatic circumstances) were considered a big red flag of the medical variety. He also had a sneaking suspicion that the doctor wanted to find out what made him tick, which wasn't going to happen.

"All right," said the doctor. "Steady."

Sam heard a humming sound as the CAT scanner did its thing. It took a few minutes.

"I'm Dr. Connors. You are no longer experiencing hallucinations, correct?"

Sam nodded.

"What about the migraines?" the doctor asked.

"They come and go," Sam answered.

"Do you have any other side effects?" the doctor asked.

"Just the migraines and nose bleeds, but they get pretty bad sometimes."

"How bad do they get?"

Sam shrugged. "They're bad enough to wind up here."

"Does that happen often?" Dr. Connors asked.

"No. I'd say once every couple of months, but it's been happening more recently. I think I know why," Sam said.

Dr. Connors nodded. "Why?"

"You'll think I'm crazy."

The doctor gave him a scrutinizing look. "For a guy with wings who can control fire, I'd say crazy is relative. Tell me."

"Look, it's pretty obvious that I'm not exactly human anymore," Sam replied. "What's left of my human side isn't adapting very well."

"Do you ever lose control of your abilities?"

Sam hesitated. The last thing he wanted was for people to think he was some kind of a threat. "I've never been able to consciously use my healing ability. It's only ever happened when I was having a migraine."

Doctor Connors asked, "What about other abilities?"

Sam remained tight-lipped. He wasn't going to mention the lightning thing.

"I can understand why you're nervous. Look, I'm not going to go to the press. There's this thing called HIPAA. I'm sure you've heard of it," the doctor said.

"I was Pre-Law at Stanford before all of this craziness started. I know about HIPAA," Sam pointed out.

"And you don't trust anyone."

"Dean."

"Your brother," Doctor Connors replied.

"Yes. He's about the only one."

"At some point, you're going to have to trust someone else. If you have another migraine and wind up in another hospital somewhere because you lost consciousness, what are you going to do?"

Sam shrugged. "I'll figure it out. I always do."

The doctor nodded. "You have a lot of extra brain activity in areas that usually aren't active, such as the epiphysis cerebri, but that may be normal in your case. I want you to come back if the headaches get worse. Let us know if the prescription isn't working. We can always try something else."

"I will."

"Good. Sam…if you need help, don't be afraid to come back. You don't have to deal with this alone."

"I'm not alone, Doc. Believe me," Sam said. "Can I get up?"

"You're free to go. There's an FBI agent waiting for you upstairs."

In the meantime, Dean was in the hotel room with Agent Smith watching the news. "And in other news, Senator Norm Gardner has been rising in the polls, and is now a solid second. Senator Rob Samuelson is still firmly in first place. Reed Payne has stepped out of the race."

Suddenly, a breaking news alert flashed across the screen: "Remains that have been genetically identified as Dick Roman's washed up on a New York beach several days ago. There is no sign of the extraterrestrial which had taken over his body on Air Force One. The government does not think it survived the crash."

"Is that what they're calling Leviathans now?" Dean wondered aloud.

"Yep," Agent Smith replied. "That is the official explanation. The government is afraid the truth would panic people."

"We should go over and check on Sam. If they found Roman's body, that Leviathan has to be out there," Dean said.

"The video from the plane went viral, remember? We all saw your brother freeze that thing and smash it into tiny pieces. How could it have survived that plus the plane crash?"

"Leviathans are very hard to kill, Agent Smith. There's a reason they're at the top of the food chain. Sam probably just pissed it off."

Agent Smith shook his head. "I hope you're wrong. Come on." He stood up and grabbed his suit jacket and sunglasses.

"I want sunglasses," Dean said.

Agent Smith laughed. "We'll make a real agent out of you yet, Winchester."

To be continued.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Meanwhile, at the hospital, Sam was eating a late breakfast when Agent Daniels walked in. He glanced up, and recognized the agent from Air Force One.

"Hi," Sam said.

"Morning," Agent Daniels replied.

"They sent you?"

Agent Daniels nodded. "I'm here to ask you about the bank robbery."

"We weren't actually trying to rob the bank," Sam replied. "There was a shape shifter inside."

"I see. So, the whole video of your brother and you was a fake?"

"Not exactly," Sam replied. "We were trying to keep everyone safe from the shape shifter."

"Shape shifter? Not Leviathan?" the agent asked.

"There are other supernatural creatures besides Leviathans, you know."

"I see."

"We didn't rob that bank. We were framed," Sam continued.

"Don't worry. I believe you," Agent Daniels said. "So does the FBI."

Sam looked amazed. "Really?"

The agent nodded. "I was there on Air Force One, remember? I saw those things on that plane. They weren't human, and you're not exactly normal, and I met your angel friend. It's not entirely a leap to say that other things might exist. Right now, the official government plan is to deem these things extraterrestrials unless they are forced to otherwise label them. They don't want the public panicking any more than necessary."

That didn't entirely surprise Sam. "So we're off the hook?"

"You and your brother have both been cleared of all charges. However, the government wants to keep an eye on you two. Multiple eyes, as a matter of fact."

"Which is why they want us to join the FBI," he realized.

Agent Daniels nodded. "The government is not entirely sure about you two. But, they want to ensure that you won't be a threat, and they want to use your abilities to benefit the general public."

He nodded. "I figured there was a catch. This is a little too good to be true."

"Yeah, well. It is a legitimate job. You'll get a paycheck and government benefits."

Sam nodded. "I'll take what I can get."

"Oh, and you're officially classified as the world's first 'human mutant.' No mention of anything supernatural, of course." Agent Daniels held up a newspaper with a headline reading "WINCHESTER REMAINS IN HOSPITAL, CONDITION UNKNOWN." Below a picture of the hospital with people gathered outside taken yesterday evening, the captain read "Secrecy shrouds world's first mutant super hero; well-wishers wait outside for glimpse."

As Sam shook his head in disbelief, there was a knock on the door. "May I come in?" A familiar voice asked.

It was Castiel.

"Of course," Sam said.

The door opened. "I see you have not been released from the hospital yet," the angel said.

"I'm working on it," he replied.

"I may have found a way to defeat the Leviathans without using the Ark to send them back to Purgatory," Castiel said.

"Oh?"

"It took a lot of digging, and Balthazar and I tortured a few demons to get it. However, it requires the blood of a fallen angel, three feathers from a non-pure breed angel, and the blood of the King of Hell."

"Sounds like a walk in the park," Agent Daniels replied sarcastically.

Castiel held out his hand. In it was an empty glass vial. Instantly, it filled up with blood.

"One down," he said.

"You're..." Agent Daniels began.

"Fallen," Castiel said. "And I believe that I cannot get up," he added, but there was a slight twinkle in his eye.

"It's 'I can't get up', Cas," Sam said.

"I can't get up, Cas," said the angel, handing over the vial.

Sam sighed. "Thanks. The feathers, I guess would be me." His crimson wings shimmered into view, and he plucked three feathers from them.

There was another knock on the door. "Hey," Dean said.

"Come in."

Dean and Agent Smith entered the already cramped hospital room. Dean was carrying a large backpack.

"What's that?" Dean noticed the vial of blood.

"Cas says he may have found a spell that works on the Leviathans."

"You did?"

Cas nodded. "Balthazar and I have been working on this for months. It is too risky to use the Ark around mortals. Some innocent person may wind up in Purgatory."

"Fair enough," Dean replied. "What do you need for the spell?"

"We require the blood of a fallen angel, three feathers from a non-pure breed angel, and the blood of the King of Hell. We have two out of three," Cas replied.

"Like Crowley's just going to give us his blood," Dean said.

"He might if he knows that it's to defeat the Leviathans," Sam said. "Remember, they're his enemies, too."

"So what, the enemy of my enemy is now my best pal? It doesn't work like that in real life."

"We could just fight him," Sam said.

"I don't think we can just fight the King of Hell," Dean replied.

"What about the crossroads?"

"No way," Dean said. "No deals, especially not you."

Sam sighed. "I guess we're screwed, then."

And then the power went out.

"That's not funny, Cas," Sam said.

"That was not me," said the angel.

"Maybe they just forgot to pay the electric bill?" Agent Daniels asked hopefully.

The sound of scratching in the air ducts could be heard. It was a lot of scratching.

"I don't think so," Dean replied, glancing up.

The air duct grate fell off, as a cat jumped down. It was a gray tabby with green eyes, and stared up at them. It was also very scrawny and ragged.

The cat meowed plaintively.

Agent Smith raised an eyebrow. "That cat must have been in there a while."

"But why did the electricity go out?" Agent Daniels wondered.

"Maybe the cat chewed on something?" Sam responded.

"You don't think this is one of Chuck's, do you?" Agent Smith asked.

"Technically, they're all Chuck's," Sam replied. "But he usually feeds his better."

The cat meowed again and Maria stuck her head into the hospital room. "What is going on? Where did that cat come from?"

Dean pointed to the air duct. "It was stuck in there."

"Oh, poor thing." Maria picked up the cat. "Here, kitty. Let me go and get you some milk."

And she left with the cat.

Sam and Dean exchanged glances.

"A cat? That is a bit…strange, don't you think?" Sam said.

Dean shrugged. "Considering everything that's happened lately, a cat is about as normal as it gets. So, shall we summon Crowley?"

"Right," Sam replied. "Can someone watch the door outside? We don't want anyone to wander in here while this is going on."

"Sure," said Agent Smith. He gestured to Daniels. "Come on."

The two agents stepped outside.

"Great," said Dean. He set the backpack on the table. "Luckily, this has most of what we need for the ritual. Sam, you should have enough juice for the rest of it."

He nodded. "Start it up."

A few minutes later, with the ritual supplies on the table, a devil's trap drawn by Sam on the ceiling, and the FBI agents guarding the door outside, Sam and Dean chanted in Latin. The most annoying thing about the ritual was that there was no spectacular poof or anything, and that Crowley could wait if he wanted to. He was obviously choosing to wait. Several minutes of silence passed.

"I can go and get a harp if you want," said Castiel. "I'm not particularly good at playing one, but I hear the music can be quite soothing during stressful situations."

"No thanks," said Dean.

Suddenly, they heard a loud throat clearing on the other side of the room. Sam and Dean turned around.

"You rang?" said Crowley. He glanced up, as had become his habit out of necessity.

"Yeah," Dean said. "We need your blood."

The demon crossed his arms. "Now why would I want to do that?"

"We need to defeat the Leviathans, and we know you hate them at least as much as we do," Sam replied.

"I see," said the demon. "You really believe that the enemy of your enemy is your friend?"

"No," Dean said. "But we think you don't want to be screwed over by the Leviathan formerly known as Dick."

"You're right about that," Crowley replied. "Still, I find you two…three…" he glanced at Castiel, "only slightly less annoying than the Leviathans. As soon as the Leviathans are dead, why wouldn't I come after you?"

"Good point," Sam said. "In fact, we fully expect you to come after us, and we'll be ready. But for now, we'd really like to kill the Leviathans."

Crowley laughed. "You always were a smart one, Sammy. Why did you take the deal? I could have given you a better one, and let you be normal besides."

"I don't trust you."

"You shouldn't trust Chuck. Yes, he keeps his word, but he can be very literal about it. He's almost as good as a contract writer as I am. I'm just better at putting in the loopholes."

Sam nodded. "Are you going to help us, or not?"

"Oh, I'll help you. But mark my word, Winchesters, I will want my revenge. You too, Cas."

The angel shrugged. "So far, every time I've died, I've been resurrected."

"You think I haven't noticed?" Crowley responded. "That doesn't mean I can't have my fun killing you."

"Not if I manage to kill you first," Castiel replied.

"You are brave. But are you brave enough to go against your father's wishes?"

"What do you mean?"

"He put me in charge down there for a reason," Crowley said. "Don't think he didn't for one second plan it. He plans everything. If you kill me, you are going against what he wanted."

"If my father allows me to kill you," Castiel replied, "it will also be for a reason. Don't doubt that."

"We'll see," said the demon.

Sam held out a glass vial. "Crowley?"

"Ah yes," said the demon. "Give me a moment." He raised his left hand and transformed his fingernails into claws, then scratched the skin of his right arm. The crimson blood dripped into the vial, looking dark and sticky in the dim light. The power was still out. He handed the vial back to Sam. "There. Now will you release me?"

"Awesome," Dean said, and began chanting in Latin.

The room smelled faintly of brimstone as Crowley disappeared.

Sam glanced up. "I'm going to have to clean that off."

"You clean. We've got what we need. Cas, you're going to have to explain the spell."

"Gladly," said the angel.

After about a half hour of Sam hovering and scrubbing the ceiling, the FBI agents were allowed back into the room.

"What happened?" Agent Smith asked as Sam landed.

"We got it," Dean said, holding up Crowley's vial.

"Excellent," said the agent. He sniffed. "Is that lemon cleaning solution?"

"Yeah, we had a bit of a mess to clean up," Sam said. He glanced up at the ceiling. "But it's done."

"Time to go Leviathan hunting," Dean said. "But we need to get out of here discretely, or else we'll be mobbed."

"There's always the roof," Sam replied.

"That's not discrete," Dean answered.

"Sam, I'm going to teach you an angel trick," Castiel said. "Everyone, join hands." As they did, he added, "Now, Sam, focus on something that you know well."

"The Impala?" he asked.

"I don't think that five of us are going to fit in there," Dean said.

"Good point. Bobby's house?"

"Bobby's house it is," Dean replied.

"Okay. Concentrate on that," Castiel replied. "And follow me."

The air around them grew very hazy and shimmered. A stunned nurse entered the hospital room, only to see five people completely disappear. She could hear the very distinct sound of wings fluttering.

The End (for now)


End file.
